Roses
by rubyshards
Summary: SeiferxSquall. Post war. Seifer provides a pleasant diversion from Squall's daily work. For the themes 'coffee,' 'smile,' and 'office work.'


It's the scent of freshly picked roses, gentle and soothing and thick in the normally cold, crisp, metallic air, that alters him to Seifer's presence even before he can step entirely into his office. The room is, for once, warm and welcoming; he shuts the door swiftly behind him with one hand, a steaming mug of coffee held in the other, and a soft, small smile creeps onto his lips when he turns around, blue-gray eyes meeting with emerald-green.

Seifer smiles at him, waves, and holds up a handful of bright red roses from his position on Squall's desk, perched gracefully on the edge. He is dressed in what Squall can only assume to be the nicest outfit in his entire wardrobe, which is surprising, because, in all the years he has known Seifer, he has never seen him dressed up before, not even in a Garden issued uniform, not even at his own graduation, and seeing Seifer now, all dressed up and cleaned up and gentlemanly, is more surprising than the bundle of roses in his hand.

"'Morning." He slips into Seifer's grasp smoothly, letting Seifer take the coffee mug from his grip without a single complaint, and, instead, he wraps his arms around the taller blonde's neck, pressing a soft, chastise kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Seifer is normally still asleep by this time, and, even if Squall doesn't really mind the much needed distraction from his paperwork, it is odd to see Seifer up, dressed, and out of bed this early in the morning, without some form of coaxing or teasing to lure him from the warm alcove of their bed.

"Keeping you company. What does it look like?" Squall raises an eyebrow at him, brow furrowed, scar creased into a dark line down his forehead, but he doesn't say anything more, instead leaning his head to the side, allowing Seifer a path to kiss and nip along.

Overall, the whole situation is rather odd, now that he thinks about it.

Very odd indeed, because it isn't everyday his lover presents him with a bundle of fresh roses and a warm smile and gentle kisses along his jaw the moment he walks into his office, and, even if he is rather enjoying this little reprieve from work, he has matters to attend to today, and the distraction Seifer is providing isn't helping at all, and he has this horrible feeling that today is going to be _one of those days _when he doesn't get anything done at all, thanks to Seifer.

The moment he tries to slip out of Seifer's arms, however, he finds himself pulled closer, between Seifer's legs and against the desk beneath him, with a kiss pressing onto his mouth once more and preventing him from moving.

"Where do you think you're going, Squally-boy?" Seifer's voice is quiet and teasing, laced with his stubbornness and his determination with a little underlying layer of affection, his arms tight around Squall's waist and their foreheads touching in the middle, scars running a perfect mirror image between them, binding them. He sighs, and squirms in the grasp around him, but he doesn't make an effort to break away, because the warmth is nice and comforting and he _really_ doesn't want to move any more, even if he does have work to do. The work can wait for a little while longer, anyway; it isn't that important, and even if it is, well, he's sure Quistis can handle it, if he just explains he was ill or too busy to get around to it (although she's getting exceptionally good at seeing through that, and knows there's more to it; she won't question him, though, which is good, because he's not exactly sure what he'd say, anyway).

"I _was _going to get work done today."

"I decided today was your vacation." Before he can respond, Seifer captures him in another kiss, tongue working over his lips, exploring, and he suddenly forgets what he is going to say in response _anyway, _and it doesn't matter all that much, because it can't have been important in the end, if he has forgotten it already.

Seifer's hands creep up his back, running over his spine and ribs, playing under the stiff Commander jacket that he wears way too often but oh-so-well, as Seifer has told him before, and he leans against him, kissing along his shoulder and neck, at the exposed line of his skin where the buttons at the top of his too-nice shirt are already undone and revealing golden, suntanned skin and the jutting curves of his collarbone. He kisses and nips at his collar, leaving a little mark all his own, and Seifer moans, soft and low, when his tongue laps along the bite to cover it up again.

"I have work."

He thinks its funny and ironic that he's saying this around kisses along Seifer's shoulder, but that's how he's always been, a walking contradiction to himself, so he doesn't question it, and neither does Seifer. Instead, Seifer leans his head a little, letting him take control for this moment, and his hands move to his hips, rubbing small circles through the starch fabric of his slacks, fingers digging into his ass, curled around him possessively, protectively. Seifer's always been so possessive of him. He finds it amusing that all it takes is a tiny kiss to his shoulder to make Seifer like this, and he thinks maybe he should pull away and stop this here, just to play with Seifer a little bit, like how Seifer loves to play with him.

The thought doesn't make it very far, because Seifer's hands have decided they don't want to move any more than he does, and are already slipping down the sides of his slacks, running over his bare skin, and he doesn't think he could give this up even if he wants to. Which he doesn't, and Seifer knows that, which is why Seifer's smiling his wide, Cheshire cat grin, Squall thinks, and which is why he's already given up on paperwork and meetings and father-son bonding phone calls during his lunch breaks.

He leans up and kisses Seifer on the mouth again, slipping back in his grip, holding him at arms length, watching him with a tiny, tiny smile on his face; Seifer looks so happy, so content, they way they are, the bundle of roses sitting next to him on the desk, crimson-red petals curling out in pretty, intricate little designs and spreading their fragrance through the cold office air, pleasant and sugary-sweet and soothing. He slips his hand away from Seifer to reach for the roses, fingers playing over the soft-as-velvet petals, running them between his fingers, and he smiles to himself.

He forgot how much of a hopeless romantic Seifer could be.

"Giving up yet?" Seifer seems so confident of himself, so sure, just like always, and he can't help but laugh a little under his breath, soft and gentle, and kiss Seifer on the lips, once more, before he pulls out of his grip entirely and grabs the blonde's hand, pulling him off of his desk, the bundle of roses clutched in his other, held close. The scent of the petals wafts up to him when he pulls them close, and he smiles to himself, just a tiny smile, meant only for Seifer, and slips back into his grasp, warm and comfortable and secure.

"It wasn't important, anyway."


End file.
